


You're Already Gone

by brass_tacked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brass_tacked/pseuds/brass_tacked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm going to kill you. Like, dip a blade in wolfsbane and then use it to cut you in half, kill you." Stiles whispers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Already Gone

**now**

"I'm going to kill you. Like, dip a blade in wolfsbane and then use it to cut you in half, kill you." Stiles whispers, knowing that the microphone in his com unit is sensitive enough to pick it all up and broadcast it back to Scott.

"Love you too," Scott replies. Stiles can practically hear his friend's grin. He can definitely hear a wolf-whistle in the background. Probably Jackson being an ass.

"Remember that when this mission kills me. Hopefully that love will be enough to fill the void I leave in your life, because, yeah, death is going to happen." Stiles edges through an iron gate, one previously secured by a heavy-duty padlock. He pulls the gate closed behind him, stopping just shy of letting the latch fall back into place, and gets his first look at the compound that he is currently breaking into. It looks like a pretty standard bad-guy hideout. Bars on the windows. Barbed-wire topping the fence. There are several black SUVs parked by the bay door and he can hear an idling engine somewhere on the other side of the building. "Soon. It's going to happen soon. I am so not trained for this kind of thing."

"You've run around with werewolves for years, you'll be fine." Scott even sounds like he almost believes it himself.

"Not that I want to be the one to interrupt this heartwarming conversation, but I'm being told to remind you two that this is an open com line for an important mission. Professional communication is requested," Danny cuts in, "with that in mind, Agent 379, I've pulled up a satellite feed of your current location. It looks like the yard is clear. But I am getting multiple heat signatures inside of the building. One of them with a higher core-temp."

"379? So that's my operative name, huh?" Stiles gives the number a moment to bounce around in his head. The identifiers are reserved for field agents and before today he has worked at the same desk in the Research and Investigation Department since starting with The Company. His coworkers in R&I tend to stick with calling each other mundane things, like names.

"Didn't you read your packet before departure? It was written right at the top of the page," the derision in Jackson's voice would make a lesser man cringe. Stiles just allows himself one small grimace.

"Of course I read the packet, asshole."

"Open com guys, please." Danny interrupts once more. "Most of the heat signatures are gathered in the southeast section of the building. There is a door on the north wall with one guard stationed outside of it."

"North wall, got it." Stiles, momentarily forgetting that he has gloves on, wipes his palms on the Company issued black pants he is wearing and takes a step forward.

"Not yet 379. I have to hack the cameras before you can storm the place."

"How was I supposed to know that if you didn't tell me, Danny?"

"Dude, it's standard operations," even Scott sounds annoyed now. "You really did read your packet, right? I mean, it covers all this stuff."

"Scott, can I just remind you that the only reason I am out here, with only one week's worth of field training, is because about seven and a half months ago you impregnated Agent 376, aka Allison, aka the only non-supernatural of this little spy squad? I should be hearing more gratitude and less derision. Don't let the last thing I hear before I die be something mean. Please." He almost pulls off a lighthearted tone, except his voice cracks when he says die and the last part of the sentence barely comes out through the lump that just developed in his throat.

"I'm not supernatural. Just want to put that out there," Danny helpfully contributes to the conversation, "and I've got the cameras so you are clear to move."

"And that is why you are tucked away safely behind a computer. If you had field training on top of all your other skills I am convinced that you could actually take over the world." Stiles is stalling and he is fairly sure that everybody knows it.

"Life goal right there. If you don't survive this maybe I'll get my chance. Now, remember to stick to the perimeter until you have the north door in sight."

At least Danny is helpful. Stiles can hear Jackson in the background already debating the benefits of the different contingency plans in case Stiles fails.

Really, the task should not be that difficult. All Stiles has to do is take out one guard, get in the building full of bad guys (without getting caught), and figure out what is in the suspiciously large crates that have been delivered twice a week for the last three weeks. In terms of espionage this is pretty basic stuff. Except that the baddies are international arms dealers and The Company thinks that the deliveries might be the W80 nuclear warheads that went missing from a military convoy two months ago. 

There is also the small problem that the arms dealers are working with an extremely sensitive werewolf that managed to sniff out both Scott and Jackson when they were still two blocks away from the compound. Luckily, Danny had come through once again and alerted them to the impending danger before the mysterious wolf could get too close. After that it was humans only, which lead to Stiles' crash-course in fieldwork.

The yard is still empty, so he worries more about speed than stealth. He still hugs the concrete fence and only flinches a little bit when he passes through the better lit bits. "Remind me again why we think the resident wolf won't take offense if he catches my scent?"

"Because you're just a human."

"Jackson, your input is not appreciated. I can't believe that I still have to tell you that after all of the years we have known each other. You know as well as I do that not all humans smell the same, doesn't reason suggest that if he smells me he will realize that I don't belong here?" He can see the north door and the smallest reflection of moonlight on the toes of well polished black boots. He keeps his voice extra low when he speaks.

"Son of a bitch, he didn't read the packet." And, wow, Danny sounds pissed.

"I skimmed it, okay. Study time should not be scheduled directly after hand to hand combat training if that information is so important." Even he can hear the mulish tone in his voice. Okay, so maybe he should have spent more time pouring over the pages, but it's not like he hadn't read similar packets before. Hell, he wrote both Scott's and Jackson's back when they were just starting out in the field. Apparently, it was just all of this pesky human stuff that he needed to review. But, really, he did try to read it all, except something had to fall to a back-burner over the last week and it sure was not going to be weapons practice.

"Fuck, you really are going to die," says Jackson and his voice actually sounds slightly pained at the notion of life sans Stiles. "The werewolf won't notice you because there is no reason for him to. He can't go around analyzing everybody's scents. You won't set off alarms, like we did, because you won't smell supernatural."

"I... okay. I can buy that," Stiles says. "Danny, I'm going to move out of the shadows now, anything I need to know?"

"The guard is in an alcove to the left of the door. You need to take him out before you go into the open." Danny sounds professional again. Stiles could kiss him for it because the even tone does wonders for his nerves.

"Alright, I can do this. It's just a tranq dart and twenty yards. If I miss he'll know my position and I'll die, so I guess I'm just not going to miss." Stiles barely registers his own whispered words as he pulls out the gun and takes aim. He fires. "Lookat that. I didn't miss. Maybe I'm not going to die tonight after all." The darts are loaded with a combination of Jackson's kanima venom and something extra to render the target unconscious. Stiles at least remembers that from the reading.

"Radio silence on you end once you enter the building. Special ops backup is five minutes out and they move in if you signal that the warheads are on the premise."

"Scotty, remind me again why one of those highly trained back-up guys aren't in here doing the incredibly dangerous mission?"

"Because the special in special operations stands for teamwork. Training for them would have been more a trial in breaking habits that have been drilled into them for years. It would have taken more time than we could afford to give. And, don't you think, it's a little late to start looking for a replacement," Scott replies. "Now, remember, that this mission is not about you being a one-man hero. Just get in, get out, and let special ops take care of the rest."

"Then I guess this is farewell. Danny, am I clear to enter?"

"Yes. It looks like there is something going on in the conference, though, so be quick."

Stiles does not bother with a response. He just opens the door and walks inside. No big deal. He totally belongs here.

The six crates, neatly lined up near the far wall, are the only things in the massive space. For some reason Stiles expected them to be haphazardly strewn across the floor, cobwebs linking them, and mice running to hide in the corners. Probably not the safest way to store nuclear warheads. Clearly the internationally wanted arms dealers have better storage methods. The crates are not even overly large, just about nine feet in length and five feet tall. Plenty of room to fit a thirty-two inch bomb and some lead lining. 

Stiles really, really wants to talk to himself as he approaches the nearest one. 

The same laser cutter that took care of the lock on the gate makes quick work of the bolts that secure the crate. When he pulls the wooden panel off he almost drops it, but his fingers come through in the end and he avoids the embarrassment so close to the end of his mission. Near misses aside, it is not actually as heavy as he expected. Probably because it is just a plank of wood with no lead lining. Maybe the safety encasement would be on the other side of the styrofoam sheet. He pulls that down. His eyes follow the styrofoam and he takes his time leaning it against the side of the crate, careful not to make any noise, and ensuring that it will not crash over and alert anyone to his presence. His gloves are damp with sweat. He wants nothing more than to wipe his palms. 

When he finally drags his eyes up all he sees is a snowmobile.

He may have skimmed the packet, but he is fairly certain that Arctic Cats are not illegal. He moves on to the next crate, just to be thorough, but its cargo is identical to the first one. He doesn't even notice when he starts muttering a string of curses.

His breach of mission protocol is not lost on the others. The com unit explodes with chatter.

"Stiles--" That would be Scott.

"Agent 379, what's happening? Back-up will only move in once you activate the code," Danny.

"Do you even know the code? Or is that something that you forgot to memorize as well?" Jackson.

"Of course I know it! I just don't need it," Stiles bites out. "The crates are just snowmobiles. Really, really nice black and silver snowmobiles."

Silence. Apparently, no one knows how to respond. 

Finally, Scott speaks, "Seriously--"

"You have to get out of there," Danny interrupts, "there should be a door a little ways to your left on the wall behind the crates. Get to it. NOW."

Stiles does not like that tone of voice coming from Danny. Scott or Jackson, fine. Even Allison could probably get away with it. But Danny? Things were fucked if Danny sounded like that. So Stiles moves before Danny is even finished talking. He ducks and squeezes between the crates. In his haste, he knocks the piece of carefully placed styrofoam and the squeak it makes actually echoes through the room. Somehow, the piece ends up directly under his foot. The smallest shift causes the noise to repeat itself. 

He hears a door open and angry voices. The sound of hard-soled shoes on concrete. If he moves now there is nothing to stop anyone from hearing him. Never mind that the open crates will give him up. He freezes.

"Stiles, why aren't you moving? They are in the room. The werewolf is with them. You have to move." 

Identifying the voice is beyond his abilities at the moment, but the sound of it unsticks his feet. The styrofoam squeals, again, but then he is off of it and around the back of the crate. The door is right there. A few more steps and he can open it. His arm is already reaching out.

The growl stops him. His heart stutters. His head turns. He almost falls over.

Scott is screaming at him. Jackson is yelling obscenities. Danny has that tone again. The worrisome one. 

Stiles cannot find it in himself to care at the moment. He cannot do a lot of things, actually. All he can do it whisper one name before all hell really breaks loose. "Derek."


End file.
